


Until it bleeds daylight

by handcream



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Derek is amazing, Insecurity, M/M, Pining Spencer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-29
Updated: 2015-12-29
Packaged: 2018-05-10 06:14:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5573908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/handcream/pseuds/handcream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>The Roommate, eyes still wide with shock, nods slowly before a toothy grin starts to take over his face and oh, God, he’s so pretty. His roommate is an angel and he walked in on him basically performing a strip tease for himself.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>"Beautiful eyes and a great body, eh?" Roommate laughs and his voice is so low and smooth, good Lord, "Well, you’re not too bad yourself, pretty boy."</i>
</p><p> </p><p>Or, the one where Spencer doesn't know how to handle a crush, and Derek is too good to be true.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Until it bleeds daylight

In all the years he’s been going to university, Spencer has never had a roommate.

 

He supposes that it’s only reasonable that special treatment might come into play when you’re a child genius, fresh out of high school at only 12 years old, and attaining a doctorate degree and two BAs in half the time of a normal student, but.

 

Socializing isn’t his forte.

 

He’s not exactly a recluse, and he’s not _as_ out of the loop as some of his past classmates have thought. Just because he takes notes by hand and practically owns every textbook under the sun doesn’t mean he’s completely out of tune. But, still. A roommate is something he’s never prepared himself for, let alone expected.

 

He got the email just a few days before his trip from Vegas to Chicago, a little ' _There’s been a mistake… only for a few months…_ ' and more about the housing itself. He originally applied for single bedroom accommodation in the apartment complex for graduate students. So what was originally a room with one twin bed, kitchen, and bathroom, is now a two bedroom room with a living room, kitchen, and bathroom. Begrudgingly, he realizes that this one is probably much better than the other. He hates studying in the space where he’s meant to be sleeping, and one of the bedrooms has a queen-sized bed as opposed to a twin and he has a tendency to roll around in his sleep.

 

They also mentioned that the person he's rooming with is set out to get a graduate degree in Law, which isn't too threatening. The odds of this person finding any dirt on Spencer are pretty slim. At least he hopes so. Hopefully they won’t get into to too many arguments to warrant the Roommate to go through his entire life and find something worth suing for.

 

Hopefully they won’t see much of each other at all.

  
  
  
  


Getting to Chicago and finding the apartment isn’t as hard as he expected.

 

Leaving home was the hardest part, kissing his mom’s forehead and promising to write often. It was a bad day for her, and her eyes were somewhat vacant, but she held onto his arm and told him she was proud of him and the weight pressing down on his chest was lifted to some degree. His eyes were wet when he left the home she was living in, but he managed to keep it together on his way to the airport.

 

A 4-hour flight and a 50 minute drive later, he’s in his new apartment with too little sleep and too many book bags.

 

There’s only one immediate problem he notices, and that’s the coat hanger with a coat already on it, and a pair of sneakers underneath it.

 

He stands there for a good 5 minutes just staring at them, figuring out what he’s meant to do next. Out of all the different ways he could go about this, there’s one route that’s like a bright, flashing neon sign in his brain. Book it to the nearest open room.

 

So. That’s exactly what he does.

 

He kicks his shoes off and runs past the living room and to the left down the hall, past the small kitchen area and barges his way into the first closed door he sees, saying a quick prayer that it’s a bedroom.

 

On one hand, it is a bedroom. On the other hand, it’s an _occupied_ bedroom.

 

His first clue should’ve been the closed door, his _second_ clue should’ve been the muffled R&B track coming from behind the door, and his third clue should’ve been the sound of an unfamiliar voice singing along under their breath. But, no. No, instead he barged into a room where finds his half-naked roommate dancing in front of his mirror and looking like he belongs in a male calendar photoshoot.

 

Spencer drops his bags in shock and the loud crash startles his roommate and he whips around, mouth still formed around the words he was singing. And for a second, nothing is said. The entire apartment went completely silent save for the song still playing softly from the man’s macbook.

 

_Said, I'm so anxious. Girl, could you quit this stalling, you know I'm a sexaholic._

 

"Um-"

 

"I’m-"

 

They both open their mouths to say something at the same time, and both immediately clamp them shut as they notice the other talking. This results in an even _longer_ pause where Spencer is staring at this man’s rippling abs because of course he walked in on his new roommate with only his jeans on, Calvin Klein underwear peeking out the top. And of course, he’s still there. _Why hasn’t he left yet_?

 

"You, um. You." Oh, God it’s starting. "You have really beautiful eyes and a great body," the words fly from Spencer’s mouth before he even realizes what’s happening and it’s too late now. It’s too late. "I’m Spencer and I’m? I’m gonna go? Yes, go. Okay. Um. That’s a good song. Good artist. Ginuwine, right?"

The Roommate, eyes still wide with shock, nods slowly before a toothy grin starts to take over his face and _oh, God,_ he’s so pretty. His roommate is an _angel_ and he walked in on him basically performing a strip tease for himself.

 

"Beautiful eyes and a great body, eh?" Roommate laughs and his voice is so low and _smooth_ , good Lord, "Well, you’re not too bad yourself, pretty boy."

 

_Pretty boy._

 

And Spencer answers the only way he knows how. By wheezing out a laugh, and running out the room. Bags forgotten, face the colour of a tomato, and heart beating wildly out of his chest.

  
  
  
  


_Pretty boy._

 

Staying in bed for the rest of his life and never walking out of his room is starting to sound like a great idea.

 

After running out of Roommates room and barrelling through the next door he saw at the end of the hall (which happened to be the one with the queen-sized bed. He doesn’t know if Roommate knows that he could’ve had a queen-sized bed and just took the first bedroom he saw, or if Roommate is just a much better person than him), Spencer realized that he left all his stuff in the hands of the Roommate. Which means no books, no laptop, no clothes, no existence. He _could_ just go back and apologize for barging in while also grabbing his bags. Crack a joke about awkward first impressions.

 

But that would require getting up and talking to Roommate. Two things he doesn’t think he’s quite prepared for.

 

_Pretty boy._

 

The nickname has yet to stop bouncing around in his head for what feels like the hours he’s been lying in bed. Does it mean Roommate thinks he’s pretty? Does he _want_ Roommate to think he’s pretty? He’s never cared so much about his appearance, though the bullying he experienced through high school was enough to chop down his self-confidence to minuscule levels. But on top of that, he’s never really… Liked people in any romantic or physical way.

 

He can appreciate good looking people, and he sometimes feels lonely, for sure. But never to the point where he’s reached out and tried to date somebody. Sexual orientation is something he’s always believed to be fluid, so being attracted to Roommate, who is a whole lot of man, isn’t too groundbreaking.

 

Maybe he should research this. Usually he resorts to textbooks for a first opinion, but google seems like the best option for this dilemma. What kind of search results would he get if he looked up ' _What does it mean that I’ve never been attracted to anyone in my life but my roommate is tall and muscular and I want to be his little spoon for the rest of my life?'_ Does he even want to know the answer?

 

Maybe he should just sleep. Sleep sounds good.

  
  
  
  


Sleep only lasts so long, as he’s barely started to doze before there’s a light knocking at the bedroom door and the sound of someone clearing their throat.

 

Groaning, he stretches until his joints pop and makes to get out of bed and open the door until he hears a voice coming through softly.

 

"Pretty boy?" Roommate. Pretty boy. The past hour or so of his life. Right. "You left all your stuff in my room, so I’m just bringing it back to you. What did you bring in these bags? They’re heavy as fuck." Roommate laughs, and Spencer knows that the average person can only hold their breath for two minutes, but it feels like he’s been holding it for an eternity. "Anyways. I’m going to head out soon to get some groceries and stock up the kitchen so if you have any requests just let me know. You probably noticed that the apartment is pretty much all furnished, but I’m thinking of going and getting some decorations to make it more homey. Ruffle pillows and stuff, if you wanna join me. I’d love to have your company. My name’s Derek by the way." Roommate — _Derek —_ finishes by rapping his knuckles softly against the door.

 

Spencer listens as he walks away and feels slightly light headed and whole heartedly fucked. Derek is not only gorgeous but also considerate as _fuck_ and if he wasn’t screwed an hour ago, he certainly is now.

 

He hears the door next to his room close and supposes that it’s probably safe to go grab the bags outside his door. Tripping over his comforter, he jumps out of bed and tip toes to the door as fast as he can. Peeking his head out, he looks down and sees that resting on top of his pile of bags there’s a notepad and pen.

 

_Grocery requests! I’ll let you know how much the grand total is and we can split it :)_

 

Smiling widely, Spencer drops down and sits cross-legged in the doorway and begins writing.

  


_\- Coffee. Lots of coffee, please. P.S. We should invest in an espresso machine in the future._

_\- Lots of sweets. Cookies, lollipops, etc. I have the cravings of a 5 year old._

_\- Trail mix!_

_\- Also, any brand of toothpaste because I forgot mine :(_

_Thank you so much, and I’m sorry for walking in on you and then staring and then running away._

 

After reading over what he put twice, he scoots forward until he’s sitting in front of Derek’s room. He’s about to slip the notepad under the door when it swings open and he’s face to face with Derek’s surprisingly hairless legs.

 

His eyes sweep up slowly until he’s making eye-contact with the man himself. Derek’s already looking down at him, one eyebrow cocked, mouth curled up into a smirk, and arms crossed over his chest. He’s wearing a shirt now.

 

"You’re wearing a shirt now," Spencer says dumbly. _Why._ "Maroon looks nice on you."

 

Derek’s smirk turns into a full-blown grin now, and his shoulders shake with laughter. "I am wearing a shirt now," he nods, "and _you’re_ sitting on the floor. What are you doing down there?"

 

"I, uh. I. The list." Spencer stutters, cursing his brain for turning to mush. He has an IQ of 187, he has a PhD in math, and two BAs in psychology and sociology. He’s about to start working on his second and third PhDs in chemistry and engineering. He should _not_ be acting like this for _any_ reason. Just because his roommate is as beautiful as a country meadow at dawn doesn’t mean his brain is allowed to do this to him. It’s not fair.

 

Thrusting his arm up towards Derek, he holds out the notepad, now slightly crushed in his fist. Derek’s smile gets wider, which shouldn’t be possible, and he takes the notepad from Spencer’s hand before grabbing his wrist and pulling him up to his feet. Spencer, being the graceful baby deer he is, stumbles and lands face first against the soft cotton t-shirt covering Derek’s broad chest. What’s nice about this is that Derek is warm and smells _amazing._ What’s bad is that he just crushed his nose in his crushes broad chest. What’s _worse_ is that he can’t find it in him to move away.

 

"Spencer?" He hears Derek laugh, and he can feel his face heating up and his heartbeat speed up at the sound of Derek saying his name. "You gonna stay in my tits all day, pretty boy?"

 

 _Pretty boy_ is what snaps him out of his trance and he jumps back and slams his back against the wall on the other side of the hallway. The horrible part is, Derek doesn’t look mad at all. He doesn’t look like he’s about to kneecap him or go through his entire life and find something to arrest him with.

 

"I’m sorry," Spencer whispers, "I didn’t mean to stick my face in your tits."

 

Derek wheezes out a laugh and it’s the _best_ sound, "No worries, kid," _Kid._ Is Derek trying to kill him with these nicknames? "I’m going to head out now that I’ve got your half of the list. I’ll probably pick up some pizza on the way back." Derek begins to walk by him and Spencer watches as he makes his way down the hall. "See you in an hour or so, Spencer." He stops and looks back at Spencer before turning the corner to get to the front foyer and waves goodbye.

 

Spencer smiles, toothy and wide, feeling way more at ease. "Bye! You have really nice pecs." He jokes, and prays that Derek will find it somewhat funny.

 

Derek’s answering laugh rings throughout the apartment as the front door opens and closes.

 

And with a small sigh, Spencer looks back down at all his bags on the floor and realizes it’s time to unpack.

  
  
  
  


Unpacking all his crap and running back and forth between his room at one end of the flat, to the living room to put all his books on their bookcase becomes quite the workout. He’s not completely unfit, but. He’s totally, completely unfit. Which makes running round with all his stuff a bit harder than it should be.

 

Spencer finds himself in the middle of hauling the last leg of books to the living room, sweating too much and panting a little too hard, when Derek bursts through the front door, biceps bulging in his t-shirt as he carries what looks like 50 pounds of groceries and a couple boxes of pizza.

 

He watches as Derek hauls everything further into the flat, kicking the door closed behind him, muttering something about how it’s " _too fucking cold for mid September,_ " and- his _arms,_ holy _shit._ He feels like he’s stuck in a trance; watching the way Derek’s arms flex and he barely feels the books slipping from his fingers until Derek actually lifts everything up to rest them on the kitchen table and the way the t-shirt stretches around his biceps and he’s so _strong,_ he could probably lift Spencer up against the _wall_ and—

 

" _Ow!_ Fucking-, _crap_ . Oh my, _God._ " And 10 pounds of hardcover books land directly on his toes. He squats down and pushes the books off with a small whine. Gripping his toes, he feels tears spring to his eyes and-

 

"Shit, kid, are you okay?" _Derek._

 

" _Yes,_ " Spencer murmurs from where he’s now burrowed his face into his knees, completely mortified once again. Derek is becoming a safety hazard for him, as he always seems to become even clumsier around him. "Just peachy. A peach with broken toes."

 

He hears a small laugh and can feel the warmth of his presence when Derek squats down next to him, and can _really_ feel it when he rests a warm hand on Spencer’s back. "You sure? That’s quite the pile of books you dropped on your poor feet."

 

"Ugh," Spencer groans and falls back onto his bum, looking over at Derek, "Yeah, it doesn’t hurt anymore. Physically at least," Derek raises an eyebrow and Spencer rushes to clarify, "Emotionally, I’m hurting a bit. It’s kind of embarrassing that I dropped the books because, um," _because I was too busy ogling your biceps to notice them slipping in the first place,_ "Because."

 

Derek’s laugh is loud as he claps Spencer on the shoulder and stands back up.

 

"There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, pretty boy. Now, how does breaking in this living room with some Netflix and pizza sound to you?"

 

Spencer answers with his stomach growling and a sheepish smile.

  
  
  
  


After that night, time seemed to fly by.

 

It’s been just over a month since it all began, and it definitely hasn’t been as hard as he originally thought it would be.

 

But then again, that’s probably because Derek is literally a dream come true roommate for someone who doesn’t deal well with other people. It’s like he understands the mental struggle that Spencer goes through every time they cross paths, and doesn’t push him into hanging out together. Which ended up providing Spencer with the time he needed to work up the courage to initiate a conversation every once in awhile.

 

That being said, it does seem like with each step forward, he takes at least three back. One moment he’s laughing and catching pieces of popcorn in his mouth that Derek throws at him from the other side of the kitchen table, the next he’s covering his eyes and sputtering out apology after apology as Derek stares at him, bewildered, dripping wet, and only in a towel, just trying to make it across the hall from the bathroom to his room without his weird roommate interrupting his morning routine, and leaving Spencer to hide in his room for the next eight hours.

 

So, yeah. He’ll begin his trek up the mountain of friendship, hoping to one day reach the top when he can consider him and Derek _friends,_ only to be swept away by the avalanche of broken dreams. It’s a painful cycle to be stuck in, and Spencer honestly doesn’t know how much longer he can handle it.

 

School has proven to be a good distraction, though, as it always has. His classes are relatively easy, too, which means it doesn’t take a lot for him to get through one assignment after the other.

 

Eating dinner together has became a habit, though, which is _really_ nice. Derek turned out to be an amazing chef (which shouldn’t have come as a surprise seeing how great he is at everything else), and having brought along one of his mom’s recipe books, Spencer’s been enjoying the taste of home-cooked meals every few days out of the week.

 

It was especially nice when Spencer mentioned over breakfast that he had a presentation that afternoon that he was stressed about, and then came home after a day far too long to the smell of fresh garlic bread coming out of the oven and a huge helping of spaghetti bolognese ready to eat. He was so happy he teared up a little bit, which if Derek noticed, he very kindly didn’t mention it.

 

It’s just- it’s nice, even . Spencer pauses his typing and looks over at Derek, who just got back and is " _decompressing_ , pretty boy, it’s important to do after a long day." He’s spread out across their couch, legs slung over the armrest and back flat against the cushions. Spencer just wants to go over and _straddle_ him, which is an urge he can say he’s never felt before. There are a lot of urges he’s been getting recently that he wasn’t completely used to. Like picturing Derek holding him up against the wall and having to bite his forearm while he got off in the shower to silence his moans.

 

With each year he’s gone to university (he’s going on, what, six? Seven years?), he’s discovered a plethora of new things about himself.

 

Still looking over at Derek who has his eyes closed, listening to whatever nature documentary is on the TV, Spencer can’t help but feel like there’s something about this that feels oddly domestic. Like he could just go over there and have Derek wrap his arms around his waist, maybe spoon for a bit before cooking dinner together, and then head back to the couch for a quick nap- stomachs full of food and hearts full of love. Horribly enough, it’s making him feel a bit turned on. Just a bit, though. Maybe more than a bit. There’s something about domesticity that riles him up.

 

Shaking his head in an attempt to rid himself of his near-explicit thoughts, Spencer looks back at the word doc he has open and tries to refocus. He hit the minimum word count about half a page ago, but there’s still lots to be done.

 

Cracking his fingers, Spencer smirks at the loud "Ew!" that Derek let out and continues his work.

  
  
  
  


One week later and Spencer is pretty sure that he has gained a bit more control of himself.

 

It’s taken a lot of avoiding and a lot of scribbling his random thoughts into his worn leather journal, but he’s finally got somewhat of a grip on his emotions. That being said, having a grip on them doesn’t make them any less terrifying.

 

This massive crush that he has on his roommate is a very new feeling, and he knows that it’s a slippery slope. _This is how people get hurt_ , he realizes one late night while cocooned in his blankets and pen held tightly in his fist, _these feelings can only end in heartbreak_. Derek himself isn’t the terrifying bit, but it’s what happens when he lets him in and when it ends that’s going to hurt like a bitch if he lets it happen.

For someone who’s never felt any kind of romantic heartbreak, he does feel like he should be less scared. But he’s seen his mom choke back tears when his dad left, too young to fully understand the pain but old enough to know she was trying to hide what she was feeling. He knows how damaging it can be, and it’s. It’s scary. Letting people in isn’t something that he’s ever tried, as no one has ever cared about him enough to _want_ in.

 

This- this is a hard truth to swallow. Sure, he’s had teachers and professors who’ve shown interest in him. Well, mostly just interested in his brain and the speed in which he’s able to learn new concepts. Teachers and professors aren’t really _friends_ , though, and _definitely_ not lovers.

 

Spencer’s grip falters on his pen and he sucks in a sharp breath. _Has no one really cared about me in my life apart from my mother?_

 

His eyes begin to water before he can help it and maybe he doesn’t have as much control of himself as he originally thought and _what chances could he even dream of having with Derek if no one has ever cared about him and—_ he’s choking out a sob before he can even catch himself.

 

What the fuck _is_ this, he’s never suffered from this kind of breakdown before and _God,_ it sucks. Where did it even _come_ from? Has it just been building up over time? Looking back, he realizes that at any point where he’s felt that pang of loneliness, or the longing for just a friend, he’s always had something to distract himself with. Whether it was taking care of his mother, or trying to get through high school as fast as he can to escape the bullies, or working on one degree to another. The distractions have always been constant. He’s been using school as a distraction this time around to try and ignore this crush, but after this degree, he doesn’t plan on doing more schooling.

 

He’s going to be finding a job and Derek won’t be there.

 

The one person who’s ever bothered to be nice to him is going to be _gone_ if he doesn’t try to stop it, but even then it must be inevitable. He knows Derek’s from Chicago and that he _adores_ the city, so why would he ever want to leave? Spencer will be going back to Vegas to make sure his mom’s okay and potentially get a job in the area. There’s no way that in a few years time Derek will still be wanting to be around him. The novelty of the new friendship — maybe new relationship — will wear off and he’ll be left alone.

 

It’s a sad fate to have and _God,_ he’s so tired of thinking about it. With blurred eyes Spencer tries to focus on the alarm clock on his bedside table, and sees it’s nearly 3am and he has an early morning class.

 

He sighs and wipes his face roughly.

 

Sleep. Sleep cures all.

  
  
  
  


The next morning, he can’t bring himself to look at Derek.

 

It’s not like it’s Derek’s fault or anything, it’s just- he can’t figure out how to un-crush. He’s not sure that’s even _possible,_ but. Looking at Derek’s face can’t be helping him in his endeavours.

 

Derek doesn’t seem to mind when Spencer is a bit quieter over breakfast. It’s not like Spencer has been the most communicative roommate in the world despite the increasing amount of interactions they have, so he probably assumes it’s just another one of those withdrawn days. What he probably doesn’t assume, is that this is the result of Spencer realizing tons of shitty, insecure feelings that he had ignored up until last night, and that his hopeless crush on Derek is what shone the light on them.

 

Distancing himself from his feelings doesn’t mean he wants Derek to hate him, or that he wants Derek to stop being friendly.

 

But what _does_ he even want? He knows he can’t keep expecting Derek to read his mind and reassure him that he’s not going to suddenly lose interest in him. He can’t even be sure that there is any interest that Derek is showing, or if it’s just him being his usual friendly self. Spencer does suppose that there have been a few movie nights that Derek could have easily skipped out on if he didn’t want a friendship with him, but his brain just can’t seem to expect it.

 

"Pretty boy?" Derek can’t keep calling him pet names if he doesn’t want Spencer to fall deeply in love with him. "Anybody home?" He smiles and reaches over to gently knock on Spencer’s forehead. "You seem a bit out of it today. More-so than usual," He teases.

 

Spencer bites his lip and stares down at his cereal. "Just," he clears his throat when his voice cracks due to lack of use, "just thinking about stuff."

 

"Oh, yeah? That can’t be too hard for one as bright as you, oh ye wise Spencer Reid." There’s a smile in Derek’s voice, and Spencer can’t help but smile a bit. He had told Derek about the whole high IQ, eidetic memory, one PhD and two BAs thing passingly during dinner a couple weeks ago, and he’s pleasantly surprised to know that Derek remembers.

 

"It’s a lot harder than you’d think," Spencer laughs, albeit a bit self-deprecating. His plan to avoid Derek until he gets his shit together and is able to un-crush, isn’t going very well. He can’t believe how close he feels to breaking down and just telling Derek all his insecurities.

 

Derek’s quiet for a few moments then, and it makes Spencer look up. His breath gets caught in his throat as he makes eye contact with Derek, deep brown eyes looking at him inquisitively, his eyebrows scrunched in what looks like concern. The gaze is so intense, Spencer has to clear his throat and look back down at his cereal. The marshmallows in the lucky charms have dissolved into small lumps of sugar by now, and it’s kind of gross but also the only way he can distract himself to avoid Derek’s burning eyes.

 

"Spencer," Derek’s voice is so gentle that it makes his heart clench, and Spencer looks up to see a mix of concern and sincerity swimming in his eyes, "If you need someone to talk to… I’m just next door, you know?"

 

"Why?" The word stumbles out before he can catch himself, and his brain doesn’t have time to catch up before the next words come out, too, "Why would you care?"

 

Derek’s eyes look sad then, like he’s just heard a tragic story on the news and wishes he could be less powerless in the situation. "I’m your friend, Spencer," he reaches across the table and grabs Spencer’s wrist in a gentle hold. Spencer’s eyes follow the movement and they get transfixed on the way Derek’s hands look on his frail wrist, the stark contrast between their skin tones. "That’s why I care."

 

Spencer feels short of breath when he looks back up at Derek, smiling slightly and excusing himself as he has to get to class. As he places his bowl in the sink, he can feel the weight of two caring eyes on his back and feels more cared for than he has in years.

 

 _That’s why I care_.

  
  
  
  


Later that night, Spencer begins to think that having a high IQ and an eidetic memory is pretty useless, as he would much rather want to be able to read minds.

 

Because really, these _gifts_ or whatever they’re meant to be have done nothing to help him with his interpersonal skills, and if he was able to read people half as easily and fast as he can read through books, than he’d be much happier. Even then, he’d would trade the eidetic thing and the IQ of 187 thing for the power to read minds, _any day._ He knows that it’s probably just the lack of experience with people having interest in him is taking a toll on how he’s reacting to Derek being so friendly, but he can’t help but go back and analyze every shitty experience he’s had with people just because he can’t for the life of him read people.

 

He came home to an empty apartment, which means that Derek must be getting groceries or something as he doesn’t have an evening class and he hadn’t mentioned any plans. He flops down on the couch and closes his eyes, trying to think of a way to cure himself of the crush.

 

After a quick google search, he found a pretty useless Wikihow article on how to stop liking your crush with fourteen ugly pictures. None of the steps would work as everything involved distancing yourself which he won’t be able to do until the school gets their arrangements fixed. The thought of moving out sends a pang of sadness through his body, which doesn’t seem fair seeing as this was meant to be a temporary arrangement to begin with.

 

He’s just so _exhausted._ Everyday he just _pines_ and _aches_ for the affection he’s never before experienced, and it’s only getting stronger. He hasn’t done much to distance himself, but he’s scared of what’ll happen when he does. These flippy-floppy emotions are killing him.

 

Jumping between two extremes; one moment wanting to reach over and kiss all over Derek’s strong jawline, the next wanting to isolate himself in his bedroom, face buried in his textbooks and willing his brain to just _shut up._ His mind whirling in a twister, making his head pound with a splitting headache.

 

His thoughts are interrupted by the front door opening and a disheveled looking Derek running through.

 

"Spencer!" Derek shouts, sliding across the floors and eyes jumping all around before before Spencer clears his throat from where he’s sat up on the couch.

 

"Um-" he starts before Derek runs over to him, all but jumping on top of him.

 

"Kid, come _on,_ c’mon, c’mon, _c’mon,_ " Derek’s yanking on his collar, pulling him to his feet so fast that Spencer nearly topples over. If it were anybody else, he’d probably feel somewhat threatened and would refuse to get up. But not only does he feel pretty damn safe in Derek’s presence, he feels like it’d be a crime to refuse him right now. There’s a childlike gleam in his brown eyes, and a smile so, _so_ wide.

 

“Derek!” Spencer squeals as he’s dragged to the front door, “ _Shoes,_ Derek, let me just put on my shoes before you take me God knows where.”

 

Derek huffs but stops in the front foyer, letting Spencer slip on his shoes and jacket. He taps his foot impatiently as he watches him, muttering something under his breath that sounded something like “what kind of genius takes so long to put on shoes,” but Spencer pointedly ignores him.

 

If he’s going to be dragged out of his apartment with no idea of where he’s going, he’s sure as hell not going in his new socks while he’s at it. They have little flasks and test tubes on them, and he spent way too much on them to just ruin them because Derek won’t wait three seconds.

 

The second he stands up straight he’s being yanked by the collar again, which is just great. He never thought himself to be a slow-walker, his legs are pretty long which means he just naturally takes larger steps. But being dragged behind a rushing Derek makes him feel a land tortoise, moving only a mile an hour compared to this fast-moving, muscular hare.

 

By the time he’s drawn out of his own weird thoughts, they’ve made it outside. Derek stops abruptly causing Spencer to bump into his back, nose bumping against the back of Derek’s neck.

 

He goes to apologize, but a chilly breeze stops him dead in his tracks, and. Oh.

 

It’s snowing. In October.

 

“Isn’t it gorgeous?” Derek sighs dreamily. Spencer just stares. Snow in October… It’s not even halloween yet.

 

“It’s not even halloween yet,” Spencer says glumly, burrowing into his thin jacket, “I knew Chicago got cold but this is ridiculous. This changes everything about my halloween costume.”

 

Derek laughs, stepping forward and reaching down to try and gather up some of the snow that’s hardly covering the grass, “I didn’t know geniuses celebrated halloween.”

 

“Oh yes, we do. It’s very important to us.” Spencer nods, hiding his smile in the collar of his coat. As much as he despises the cold, watching Derek act so childish and gleeful, trying to make a snowball out of the powdery snow is just too sweet to not make anyone smile. He watches as Derek huffs when the power doesn’t stick together, standing upright again and bringing his hands up to his face to blow warm air on them.

 

“Well, since it’s _so_ important, how about we discuss potential costumes over a nice, warm, mug of hot cocoa?” There’s something different about Derek that Spencer notices right away. The way his words sounded a bit uncertain, the slightest bit of insecurity shining in his eyes, and the way he shoves his hands in his pockets, looking almost shyly at Spencer. He looks _nervous._

 

It boggles Spencer’s mind, really. He never thought that someone as confident, as _bright_ as Derek could ever feel uncertain like this. While caught up in his own insecurities he never once thought that Derek might be feeling the same way. That he might be just as nervous as Spencer, maybe he’s never felt a connection like this either and this is new for both of them.

 

The longer Spencer stays in his thoughts, the dimmer the light in Derek’s eyes get. After a pause one beat too long, Derek clears his throat and looks away.

 

“Or, uh. Ma-Maybe not-”

 

“I think that sounds wonderful.” Spencer interrupts him, reaching out and grabbing his wrist. He pulls his right hand out of his pocket, and slowly interlocks their fingers while Derek watches with careful eyes. “Maybe we could be something together.”

  
  
Derek looks down and laughs, shaking his head. “Maybe we could, pretty boy.”

**Author's Note:**

> D: well that's the first thing i've written in nearly 3 years. i hope it was half decent


End file.
